The Other Side of the Fire
by nerdielady
Summary: The saga of Spock and Uhura continues. Sequel to 'Of Tea and Music'.
1. Chapter 1:The Burning

Author's Note: Based on the TOS episode 'Amok Time'

**__________**

**The Other Side of the Fire**

**Chapter 1: The Burning**

**October, 2267**

The woman would not leave him alone! He had done everything in his power to drive her off and still she came, offering him food now. Enraged, he flung the bowl through the door, barely aware that he threw it so hard it hit the opposite wall. He followed her, his eyes blazing. "If I want anything from you, I will ask for it!" He did not care that she cowered against the wall, terrified. She was of no concern to him.

It was then that he noticed the captain and the doctor standing in the hall. Immediately, he demanded a leave of absence on Vulcan. For some reason, the captain decided that he had the right to query him about that request. He was incensed. All he required was a yes or no answer. He turned back into his quarters and the captain followed him, demanding to know what this was all about, trying to get him to go elsewhere, pushing him about that aggravating woman. He clenched his hands behind his back, trying to hide the trembling. At last the captain acquiesced, calling the bridge to change the course. And then, thankfully, left him alone.

***

She knew something was wrong with him, but she hadn't had a chance to find out what it was. She was surprised when the captain ordered the course change to Vulcan, but kept silent, as she had no right to question his orders. And then there came the priority urgent message on the StarFleet Channel, sending them elsewhere in a hurry.

It was just a short while later, after the captain had left the bridge, when the object of her concern strode from the turbolift, straight to the helm console. He calmly changed the course again, and then went to his own station, not speaking to anyone else. Something was definitely wrong. She could see him tremble. And his hands never unclenched at all. Nor did he ever look in her direction, no matter how long she sat with her chair turned in his direction.

When she heard the captain's queries to Chekov, she knew something was seriously wrong. The captain returned to the bridge, stood by the turbolift door, and spoke directly to Spock. "Come with me, please."

Spock straightened up slowly, finally sending a swift glance her way, barely meeting her questioning eyes, before turning to meet the captain by the turbolift. She turned her head as he went past, watching him, her hands idle on her console, wondering.

***

Kirk kept his eyes glued to Spock as he questioned him. Spock swayed as he stood there, his eyes locked on the wall, never looking at the captain. He claimed no knowledge of his actions. And then he made a very strange request. Locked away? Why? When he refused to answer further questions, he ordered him to sick bay.

***

Spock staggered out of the turbolift and wandered down the corridor, eventually, by some circumstance, finding his way to sick bay. He refused the doctor's demands that he get on the biobed, stating that his orders were only to report to sick bay, nothing more. He wanted desperately to return to his quarters. McCoy took his arm, telling him that he also had orders, and then they involved a complete physical. He spoke of logic. Spock no longer felt that he had any logic, but he allowed himself to be led. He lay on the biobed, his hand clasped on the frame, his fingers twitching. The examination would do no good at all.

***

He was eventually allowed to return to his quarters. He sat at his desk, calling up an old holo on his comlink. He had not seen her since they were seven years old. He had no desire to see her. He had no desire at all for what was coming. He had been assured repeatedly that this would _not _happen to him. He did not understand why it was happening now, when he had been on the verge of something so wonderful, so powerful, that it literally shook his soul. Why?

The door chime sounded. He quickly hid the picture. He wanted no one else to see this. He was not even sure why he himself had it. Kirk entered, concerned. McCoy had told him things, but not everything. When he saw Spock's hand shaking, he grabbed it.

"You've been called the best first officer in the fleet. That's an enormous asset to me. If I have to lose that first officer, I want to know why."

Spock rose and walked toward his sleeping area. "It's a thing no outworlder may know, except those very few who have been involved. Even we do not speak of it among ourselves. It is a deeply personal thing. Can you see that, captain, and understand?"

"No, I do not understand. Explain. Consider that an order."

"There are some things that transcend even the discipline of the service."

Kirk walked over to Spock. "I'll treat this as totally confidential."

Spock walked away from Kirk, spoke with his back turned. "It has to do with biology." His voice was hoarse. He struggled to explain his problem to the captain, to his friend. It was difficult. The captain had difficulty understanding. Even when he said that it stripped away logic, brought madness, the captain did not understand. Kirk told him he was not a fish. He replied that he was also not a man. It was only when he finally told him that he would die that the man finally seemed to comprehend. He promised to get him to Vulcan, and finally, finally, left his quarters.

***

Uhura was on the bridge at her station, when Kirk called her, telling her to get Admiral Komack and pipe it down to McCoy's office. She acknowledged the strange request and put through the call. What was going on? And why all the course changes? When she had a moment, she took a chance and put through a call to his quarters, wanting so badly to find out what the problem was.

Spock was in his quarters, playing his ka'athyra, trying to maintain some type of control when the call came through. The sound of her voice, so greatly desired, enflamed him. He could not have her now, did she not understand? That part of his life was over, finished, undone. He rose, throwing his ka'athyra on the bed, clenching his shaking hands. He muttered, something unintelligible, then yelled. "let me alone, let me alone", pounding his fist into his comlink, smashing it beyond repair. He trembled and shuddered, in agony with wanting her.

He could not see her dazed face, so concerned.

***

Kirk and McCoy sat in McCoy's office. They talked to Admiral Komack to no effect. Kirk was beside himself. "I can't let Spock die, can I Bones? I owe him my life a dozen times over, isn't that worth a career? He's my friend." He called bridge, telling them to lay in a course for Vulcan.

Chapel had been listening, and when she heard this, she jumped up and ran to Spock's quarters, leaning over him as his laid on the bed. She reached out but did not touch him, then started to leave.

Spock sat up, telling her he had a most startling dream that "she was trying to tell him something, but he couldn't hear her." He stood up, shakily, leaning on the divider. "It would be illogical for us to protest against our natures, don't you think?"

She didn't understand him. She told him that they would be at Vulcan in two days and turned to go. She was greatly surprised when he asked her to make him some soup and ran out of his quarters overjoyed.

He could not understand why he had done this. He did not want this woman. And he could no longer have the one he did want.

***

He found himself being escorted by Kirk and McCoy. Perhaps this was best. He was not certain that he trusted himself at this point. When they were in the turbolift, he asked them if they would accompany him down to the planet, explaining that it was his right. They appeared to be quite pleased to be asked. When they exited the turbolift onto the bridge, she was seated at her station. He could not keep his eyes from going to her. He was filled with turmoil, sadness. He kept his face calm, even as his mind cried out in distress. She said the hailing frequencies were open to Vulcan and Kirk directed her to put the call on the big screen. They were standing near her, first Kirk, then himself, then McCoy. If he had been any closer to her, he would not have been able to stop himself from touching her, he was sure. She had no idea what was about to happen and there was no way he could tell her. It was like acid, eating away at him. Why had he never explained this to her?

The screen lit up. The three men faced it. Uhura swiveled her chair about, first facing the science station, then the men, finally looking at the viewscreen. She was nervous and she didn't know why.

Kirk was talking to someone at Vulcan Command, who asked if he was there. He replied that he was present. Whoever it was on the planet said to stand by. Behind him, he was conscious that she was relaxed now, her legs crossed, her elbow on her console. She did not know what was coming, could not possibly expect it. He raged inside, showing nothing. Nurse Chapel entered the bridge and handed McCoy a PADD, questioning softly about what was going on.

And then T'Pring's face was there on the viewscreen. She spoke, reciting the ancient words. He found himself responding, giving her the words she expected, his face as impassive as he could make it. But inside, inside he ranted, he revolted. This was not _what_ he wanted, not _who_ he wanted. He had lost control of his life and it was bitter. There was no hope for him now, no future. He was chained. Brightness and laughter and joy would no longer be part of his life.

Beside him he heard the voice that he desired the most to hear, speaking words he had no desire to answer.

"She's lovely, Mr Spock, who is she?"

He made the only reply he was able. "She is T'Pring, my wife." He heard her almost inaudible gasp, the sound wounding him even further. He sensed the others standing close turning to look at him in astonishment, but he ignored them, staring straight ahead, struggling for control.


	2. Chapter 2:The Combat

Author's Note: Based on the TOS episode 'Amok Time'

**__________**

**The Other Side of the Fire**

**Chapter 2: The Combat**

**October, 2267**

The three of them beamed down and stood on the sand at his family's ancestral grounds. He strode to the gong, lifted the hammer and struck once. He walked back to his friends, explained what was happening. Hearing the bells approaching, he struck the gong again. The party advanced through the opposite entrance, T'Pau in her litter chair. There was a man he did not recognize in the party. What was he doing there?

T'Pau raised her hand in the salute and he walked toward her, returning the salute. He knelt before her and she laid her hand on his face. He felt her sifting his mind. He could not conceal Nyota from her. He felt her displeasure at him, at the choices he had made. She rejected his feelings as being un-Vulcan and therefore shameful. He did not feel them shameful. This past year had been the best year of his life and he would never forget a moment of it, no matter what happened in the future.

When he arose, he found he must defend his friends. T'Pau waved them over to her and demanded pledges of their behavior.

The framed bells shook, drawing him back to the gong. T'Pau pronounced the kal'i'farr. Just as he was about to strike the gong, T'Pring came forward and stopped him, pronouncing the kalifee. He stopped, his arm aloft, confused. He turned to T'Pau, tried to approach her, but he was stopped. He dropped the hammer on the sand and retreated to the wall, preparing himself. If they had asked before, he would gladly have stepped aside. He truly did not want her, had never wanted her.

He was barely aware that T'Pau was explaining what was happening to Jim and Bones, giving them a chance to depart. They chose to stay. T'Pau questioned T'Pring. Then she addressed him. He fought to answer, taking more time than expected. T'Pau directed T'Pring to choose her champion. To the great surprise of everyone present, she chose his captain. The man he did not recognize stepped forward and objected. T'Pau silenced him. Then she stepped across the sands, to stand before the gong. He gathered himself together, forcing himself forward to speak to her. He plead, he begged, but she would not forbid the choice. T'Pau's attendant came forward and tied the ceremonial sash about him. He stood, focussing himself. The fires burned high, forcing everything else from his mind. He saw only flames, heard only the pounding of his heart. His whole body burned.

When Kirk stepped forward and accepted, he was barely conscious. The lirpa were brought forward and he clasped the one presented to him, his mind fully focused on the coming combat. He did not hear T'Pau telling Kirk that the combat was to the death. And it would have meant nothing to him if he had. He was too far gone, too deep in the plak tau.

The bells sounded again, his opponent advanced and he jumped down from the gong platform and began the combat, slashing with the curved blade, punching with the heavy weighted end. More than once they rolled across the sands, tossing each other about. When he saw his opponent on the ground he made a stab, but the man rolled away. T'Pau called a halt and he stood, panting, hands in position to begin again at the command. He was conscious of nothing else.

The ahn'wun were brought out. He took the ends in his hands, swung the leather straps, catching his opponent about the legs and bringing him down. He was thrown off, but came back again, rolling about the sands, almost forcing his opponent into the coals of the fire. Then he managed to wrap the heavy leather strap around his opponent's neck and pulled hard, choking him. Through the green haze that obstructed his vision, he saw the lifeless form below him. And though the pounding in his ears, he heard T'Pau's "kroykah".

He paused. For the first time, he actually saw the face of his opponent. Reason began to return. He was horrified. What had he done? He straightened slowly, letting the body sink to the ground. McCoy came forward, stating that Kirk was dead. He pulled out his communicator and asked for beam-up. McCoy came to him, asking for orders. He told him to beam up with Kirk, that he would follow.

He turned to face T'Pring, wanting an explanation. Her answer made no sense. Why would she prefer Stonn over him? And if she did, why not just end the bonding before now? He would not have objected. Although his father would have. She did explain then, in explicit detail. It was flawlessly logical, and he told her so. He then told Stonn that she was his. "After a time, you may find that having is not so pleasing a thing after all as wanting. It is not logical, but it is often true." Stonn looked at him blankly, obviously not believing his words.

He bid farewell to T'Pau, telling her that he had killed his captain, and his friend, and would neither live long, nor prosper. He did not think T'Pau believed him. He found he did not care any longer what any Vulcan thought of him. Then he requested beam-up. This would be the last time he could give this order. Hereafter, it would be given for him, for he would no longer be an officer, but a prisoner. It did not matter that the combat was over, that he had not been forced to marry, his life was still over. He did not allow himself to think about it. He would control himself.

When he returned to the ship, he went directly to sick bay, giving directions to McCoy. When Jim came out of the inner room, he was astounded and delighted. He could not contain himself and smiled widely, grabbing Jim by both arms, shouting his name. He quickly recovered his composure, trying to pretend that nothing had happened, but the two men smiled at him, their eyes dancing with glee. Jim explained how McCoy had saved him. McCoy asked him eagerly what had happened below after he had left, what about the girl, the wedding. He informed him that it must have been the combat, that when he thought that he had killed the captain, he had lost all interest in her, the madness gone.

The intercom sounded and he heard Uhura telling the captain that the diversion to Vulcan had been approved. Her voice was so calm, so soothing. Kirk gave the new course and closed the connection. McCoy dared him to deny that he made an emotional outburst when he first realized that Kirk was alive. He tried to convince him that he was merely relieved that StarFleet had not lost a highly proficient captain. McCoy replied that his reaction had been highly logical. He thanked the doctor for his insight, not expecting the next rejoinder. "In a pig's eye!" Both he and Kirk turned to look at McCoy, who just stood there and looked at them. Kirk signaled him and they headed for the bridge. He did not think, until they were in the turbolift, that she would be there. What was he going to say to her? How was he going to explain this? Surely she would never again believe a thing he said.

***

Somehow he managed to stumble through the two hours until shift change without meeting her eyes. She fled the bridge as soon as her relief showed up. He did not blame her in any way. There was no way he could explain, no way he could repair what had been done. She was lost to him. And he was numb.

He returned to his quarters, seated himself before the firepot. Tried to meditate. And found that he burned, again.

________

Kal'i'farr = marriage

Kalifee = challenge

Lirpa = Vulcan weapon with one end a curved blade and the other a heavy weight

Plak tau = blood fever

Ahn'wun = Vulcan weapon similar to a bola, made of leather straps with weights fastened to the ends

Kroykah = stop


	3. Chapter 3:Why Didn't You Just Tell Me?

Author's Note: Occurs just after TOS episode 'Amok Time'

_________

**The Other Side of the Fire**

**Chapter 3: Why Didn't You Just Tell Me?**

**October, 2267**

The door to her quarters swooshed open. There was only one person that could be. She turned towards the door. Yes, there he stood. But he didn't come in, he just stood there in the doorway. She advanced toward him with faltering steps. _ Why was he here?_

She stopped before she was close enough to feel his body heat. She could see his face in the light from the corridor. He looked _strange_. And he was biting his lower lip. She could not remember ever seeing him do that before. He said nothing. She looked at him, struggling. Finally, she spoke. "Why didn't you just tell me?" Her voice quavered, almost breaking.

"Must I explain from the hall?" his voice was strained, tense.

Now_ she _bit her lip. She dipped her head and moved aside, giving him room to enter. He took several steps into the room, his body not in his usual straight posture, not self-contained. Something was wrong.

"Spock? What's the matter?"

"Much." His head hung down, his face in partial shadow.

She was very confused. And hurt. And upset. "Do you have your wife's permission to be in my quarters?" She probably shouldn't have said that. But she hurt.

His head jerked up. "Not my wife. NEVER. Not. Not." His eyes glared now. "Not my choice. Forced as a child. Betrayed. Refused. Not ever _wife_."

Her eyes widened, her mouth opened, but no words came out. She watched as he staggered another step closer to her. "Nyota." His voice was ragged, breaking. She reached out a hand to touch him, but he jerked back. "No. You must not touch me now." He stopped, panting. His fists clenched at his sides. "I must ...explain ...please." He wavered on his feet.

"Spock, you need to sit down. You don't look at all well. Let me call McCoy."

"He cannot help what ails me." He was swaying now, sweat glistening on his forehead. "There is only one who can cure me."

"I don't understand. Someone besides McCoy can help you?"

"Yes."

She shook her head. "Then why do you not go to that person? You need help. Something's very wrong."

"Yes, wrong." He inhaled sharply. "I have come to the person who can cure me. Or kill me."

Now she jerked. "Spock, I would never kill you. No matter how angry I am, that is never going to happen."

A very curious look crossed his face. "You are angry with me." It was not a question, but a statement. "But you will not allow me to die. That is ...odd."

"Yes, of course, I'm angry with you." Her face tried hard not to crumple. Her voice was reduced to a whisper. "Why would I not be angry?"

"Why would you be angry? I have done nothing to you."

"Nothing? Nothing? Spock, you hid something important from me. You hid the fact that you had a wife already."

His head tilted sideways. He looked at her, his eyes not entirely focused. "She is not my wife. It was never my choice to have her. I did not think the necessity would ever arise. Why should this anger you?"

"Necessity? What do you mean? I don't understand anything you've said since you came in here. And you should know very well why it angers me. Everything we've done for the last year is why it angers me!"

He huffed. He swayed. One hand rubbed his forehead. He blinked at her. "Nyota. Help me. Please." His voice was soft and querulous.

"What kind of help do you need?" Again she reached for him, only to see him flinch away. "Spock, please sit down. You look like you're going to fall over. Even better, lay down. Come on." She led the way into the sleeping area, gestured to the bed.

He followed along, staggering, collapsed heavily onto the side of the bed, head hanging down. She knelt down on the floor in front of him, looking up into his face.

"Please, please tell me what's wrong."

He sighed. "I have much to tell you. Much I should have told you. It is difficult. Shameful. I..I do not know where to start."

"The best place to start is always at the beginning." she reached out and began to remove his boots.

He looked at her in confusion. "Beginning. Very well then. I am Spock, son of Sarek of Vulcan and Amanda of Earth. My _unfortunate_ beginning has caused me many problems. But this is one that I was assured would _not _be a problem. However, it is."

She removed his second boot, settled her bottom down onto her calves. "Okay. Which problem is it?"

He sagged again. "Vulcan biology." He hesitated, then proceeded. "Adult Vulcans have...a...cyclical ...time. When they must...procreate." He stopped.

She decided he was waiting for a response. "Okay. Many mammals have seasons for procreation. Wait. You said _must_."

"Yes. Must. A time when they must procreate - or they become increasingly dysfunctional. Ill. Illogical. Violent. Die."

She gasped. "Wait a minute. Are you telling me that if a Vulcan enters one of these ...times of procreation...and doesn't...procreate...that he or she will DIE?"

"Almost certainly. There does exist the possibility of meditating one's way through, but it is extremely unlikely that one would succeed."

"That's staggering. How often does this happen?"

"The first instance varies. After that, approximately every seven years."

She was silent, staring at him. After a moment, he continued, his voice low and raspy. "This is why Vulcan children are betrothed - so that when the time comes, a mate is waiting. As T'Pring was supposed to be waiting for me. But I had been assured that this time would not come for me." He paused, then continued, his voice even lower. "Which is why I have not ever spoken of it to you. I did not think it necessary. I did not think that it would ever be of any importance. I was wrong."

"And that's why you were ill. Why we diverted to Vulcan."

"Yes."

"You could have told me then."

He sagged even further. She darted out a hand to support him and he grasped it as though it were a lifeline. He raised his face just enough that he could look at her. "I believed that you would be upset with me. And I did not want that."

"So you would just have gone off and married someone that it seems that you hated rather than tell me that you had a problem? And then what? Spock? Then what? Didn't you think I'd be upset then?"

"I feared you would hate me then."

"Oh, Spock. I don't think I could ever hate you." Tears welled in her eyes. "So this...time...hit when you didn't expect it and you went to Vulcan to marry that ...girl...and she _rejected _you?"

"Yes. She invoked the challenge. I did defeat her defender. This gave me the opportunity to reject _her_. Which I did gladly. I did think that the battle had cleared the fever from me. However, I have discovered that this is not the case. It has returned."

"Ah." She sat there a moment, then looked hesitantly into his eyes. "Spock? You..You're not going to die? You're not."

"I sincerely hope not. However, I do not feel absolutely confident about the matter."

She looked hard at him. "Spock, I will _not _let you die. I already told you that."

"Yes, but you do not understand, Nyota. I...I am losing my control." His fists clenched again. "I will...injure you. I do not wish to do that."

"Spock, you've never once hurt me. Not so much as a bruise. And I can take a few bruises. Tell me what you need." Her hands rose to cup his face. "Let me help, Spock. Tell me what to do, what you need."

"I only need you, Nyota. Only you." His breathing was becoming labored now, ragged.

She rose swiftly from the floor, stripping off his clothing while he sat there, almost limp. She lifted his feet up onto the bed and pushed his shoulders down so that he was laying flat on his back. She noticed that, in spite of his general laxness, he was partially aroused. Well, procreate or die.

She removed her own clothing and lay down on the bed beside him, curling up against his heat. "Here I am, Spock."

He inhaled deeply, turned his head, nuzzled his face down against hers, inhaling again. "Nyota."

"Yes, it's me. Tell me what you need."

"All of you." One hot hand rose to hover over her face. "Share yourself with me, Nyota. As we have done before."

She turned her face into his hand, offering. His fingers found the places they needed to be, and he opened himself to her, pulling her in, giving her complete freedom of himself. Her calm, soothing love flowed around and through him, cooling the fever, giving him back some control. This was better. He rolled over on top of her, feeling all the glorious skin contact. Only two more things he must do, and now he had the control to do them.

He spoke aloud. "Nyota, I must make this permanent. Do you understand?"

"This link? Permanent?"

"Yes. I will always be with you and you with me. Do you accept this?" He let his feelings for her rise to meet her presence in his mind, showing her how he desired this. He felt her question in his mind. "Yes, Nyota, bond with me... Please, k'diwa."

"ah, Spock, oh, yes." Waves of lovely wonder flowed out of her, washing over him. It was glorious.

Quickly, before she could change her mind, he fed her the words, made her say them with him. Felt the bond form, strengthen. Sighed with relief. He dropped his hand from her face, felt the contact still there, dropped his face so that their foreheads rested together. One more thing to make it permanent, unbreakable. The thing his body craved. He pushed one knee down between her legs, up against her wet warmth. Ah, yes. With hands and mouth he began to savor her, tasting his way down her body, making her twist and moan beneath him. Soon, soon he would reach his objective. Anticipation made him growl at her, made his body hot and hard. She wrapped her hands about him, caressing. He could wait no longer. He moved his body against hers, needing _now_. And she was there, her soft cool hands guiding him. YES! He surged up, sheathing himself completely. Moved, moved, filled with her. Feeling her, feeling her feeling him, feeling her within and without, everywhere. MINE! And the ecstasy engulfed him, overpowered him. He collapsed onto her, overjoyed. She was his. As soon as he could breathe, he held her close and rolled over, carrying her over on top of him.

And slept, forgetting to tell her just how much more was coming.


	4. Chapter 4:What Have I Done?

**The Other Side of the Fire**

**Chapter 4: What Have I Done?**

**October, 2267**

He awoke in the night, burning for her. She slept against him, her head pillowed on his shoulder, her face turned against his neck, her breath soft against his skin. She had one arm and one leg thrown across his body, pinning him down to the bed. It was glorious. He could feel all her lovely soft skin against his, her cool body so wonderful against the burning. His lok twitched, heavy, hot, engorged with blood. He would cool it in her body, yes, that is what he would do. He rolled her over onto her back and entered her in one swift motion. Ahh, much better. He moved swiftly against her, reveling in the wonderful feel of her against him. So good, his Nyota, so very good.

She awoke in shock to find herself pressed down against the bed, her wrists held tight in hard hands, her body empaled with nothing done to prepare it. His body slammed into hers again and again, driving the breath from her body. What was going on? He had never been this way with her, never. It hurt, both physically and mentally. She cried out, in pain and shock. "Spock, stop! What are you doing? Stop, please. It hurts." She was sobbing now, tears flowing down her cheeks, into her ears.

He felt her moving under him now. Good, she was awake now, she would touch him and stroke him and it would be even better. He thrust harder against her, wanting to feel her muscles clench against him, but it did not happen. Instead she cried at him to stop. He would _not_ stop - she was his! He thrust again and felt the rising sensation that told him that completion was coming soon. He bent his face toward her, wanting to feel her lips upon his face, and saw the tears. Tears? Nyota was crying? His pace faltered. Why was she crying? She had never cried before. "Nyota? Why are you crying?"

"Spock, you're hurting me! Why are you doing this? Why won't you stop hurting me?" she was sobbing now.

He realized that he was clasping her wrists so tightly that he could feel the bones pressed together within his grasp. With horror he released her wrists, rolled over onto his back, clasping her against his chest, pulling her face down against him, terrified. "Nyota, I...I..I was not aware of what I was doing. Please believe me. It..it is the burning. I ...I am sorry, k'diwa. So, so sorry. Please forgive me." He was babbling, he knew that. He was also still hard and hot within her. His body was screaming at him for completion. He forced himself not to obey the compulsion to release his seed within her body. He held her gently with trembling hands, not knowing what else to do. She lay against him and cried. He softly stroked her back with one hand, down from her shoulder to the curve of her buttock. He brought his hand up and repeated the action. Again and again. And he murmured into her hair at the crown of her head - apologies, assurances, regret. Finally he thought to touch her temple with one finger, so softly, to share directly the sorrow he felt for what he had done. And felt her begin to relax against him, the sobs slowly dying down.

And then she raised herself up so that she could look at his face and asked him again - why? And he found that he must explain again, and in greater detail, what was happening to him. With great difficulty he stammered through it, as she watched. He could not avoid her eyes, he _would_ not avoid her eyes. He must tell her, make it plain. He could only hope she would not feel that he had deceived her. And then she was pulling his hand to her face again. "Show me, Spock. Show me all of it."

And so he did. Everything she asked. He laid himself completely bare to her, holding nothing back. And she wondered, in awe, at this man, this complex man, who kept so much stored away inside. Who had hidden from her, even after all that had passed between them during the preceding year, just how very deeply he felt about her, how he _adored_ her, how he would lay down his life for her, how much he trusted her. How much he despised himself for what he had just done, for the lack of control he had shown. How he feared what he might yet do.

She took in a deep breath, let it out slowly. Okay, she needed to focus. There had to be a way to control this. There had to be. "Spock, I thought you said last night that this ..connection...would be there all the time?"

"Yes, it is there, Nyota, I can feel it."

"But I can't. Not until you put your hand on my face. Why can't I feel it? Why couldn't you tell that I was in pain?"

He cast about for an answer. What had gone wrong? Why was the bond not functioning correctly? Tentatively, he reached toward her, felt the link open up strong and full. He took his fingers from the points on her face and the link stayed open wide. He felt her sliding in, surrounding him, soothing him. _Don't close me out again, Spock, we need this open._

_Yes, k'diwa, I do not know why it closed. Yes, we need it open._

She moved her body off of his, rolling over to the bed. He cried out from the loss of her, her weight, her soft skin, her wetness against his heat. She turned her head to him in shock. "Spock?"

"I _need_ you, Nyota. I cannot stop it."

"I don't think I understood just how much this overpowers you." She was quiet for a moment, obviously thinking.

He watched her face, trying to understand what was going through her mind, all the swirling thoughts. He could not concentrate on anything except trying to suppress the need he felt for her.

And then she spoke again, her voice very low, full of emotion. "Please try not to hurt me, Spock. Just _try_. I..I need to be wet, love. It's physically painful when you just...just...when you don't..."

He reared up over her now, gasping, bent his head to her center and began to lave her with his tongue, desperate for her. She moaned now, opening herself, her hands finally, finally, touching him. He licked her from top to bottom, covering every small part of her lovely folds of flesh, caressing the tiny bud of nerves with his tongue, wetting her down until she dripped with the combination of his saliva and her own juices. Until she pulled at him, saying, Now, Spock, NOW. And then he covered her body with his and entered her, slowly, much more slowly than he wished, sliding in so easily now, feeling her clench about him and cry out in ecstasy instead of pain. Ah, this was so much better. Much, much better.

He could feel her, there in his mind, soothing, caressing, loving him. _Loving_ him. Ah, yes, Nyota. Yes, yes. And the love surrounded the burning, held it back so that he could be gentle with her, not harm her. She opened herself to him, pulled him in, surrounded him, _accepted _him. And he _loved_ her. She was his, he was hers, it was as it was meant to be. And he emptied himself into her, sighing now, her name soft on his lips. And the burning died down to a gentle flame that caressed them both, melding them into one.


	5. Chapter 5:How Long Does This Go On?

**The Other Side of the Fire**

**Chapter 5: How Long Does This Go On?**

**October, 2267**

When he slept again, laying there like one dead, she carefully eased out of the bed. She drew the blanket up over him, tucking it close to keep him warm. She crossed to the closet and pulled out her heavy robe and slipped it on, then went into the bathroom, shutting the door quietly. She washed her face and other parts of her body, as well. She brushed her hair, trying to make herself look presentable. She turned out the light before she opened the door. She didn't want him to wake yet. She walked quietly to her desk, swiveling the screen of the comlink so that the light would not shine on him. She sat down in her chair and keyed in Dr McCoy's code. She waited several minutes, listening to the soft chime, before he answered.

"What the hell is the matter with you? Don't you know it's the middle of the night? If you need medical attention, call the sick bay, dammit." He was angry beyond belief.

"Len, please. I need to talk to you, not some random person in sick bay."

He stopped, really looked at her for the first time. "You look like you've been through a hail storm, lady. What the hell happened?"

"I….I….Do you know...what happened….down on the planet?" She couldn't think how to start.

He looked at her. "On Vulcan?"

"Yes." Her voice wasn't much more than a whisper.

"I was there. I know exactly what happened. What do _you_ know about it?" He was leaning forward now, trying to get a better look at her.

"He told me. He explained it all to me."

"Spock? He's been in your quarters? Why?"

"He's….still here…. He's sleeping...again." She was having a great deal of difficulty in telling him what she wanted him to know, of phrasing the questions she needed to ask. "How...how...long does this last, Len?"

"What do you mean, how long?" Suddenly, his head jerked up. His eyes narrowed. He looked at her again. "Damn. He said it was gone."

"He thought it was. He was wrong. He came...he was….so sick….he….he said...he might die." She was almost crying, struggling hard to control herself.

"Well, he wasn't lying to you, darlin'. That's the honest truth." He cocked his head. "Are you sure he's just sleepin'?"

"Yes, certain. But I don't know for how long. He...slept..once before...and then woke up again. Please, tell me how long this goes on."

"I wish I could, but I really don't know. As far as I've been able to find out, from the time it starts until the affected person….dies, if he doesn't get...what he needs….isn't any more than eight days. And at least three of those days have been used up." He huffed and squirmed a bit. "Dollface, he's never been through this before. He doesn't know what his own pattern is. And I haven't been able to get that kind of information out of anyone." He watched her carefully. "Do you know why he came to you?"

She bit her lip, her face tilted down. "Yes, I know exactly why he came to me. We...we've been...involved...for the past year."

"Well, I'll be. I had no idea." She could almost see the wheels turning. "So, when he came, you...you helped him out?"

"Yes. And then he slept. But he woke up again, and...he didn't….bother….to wake me up." her voice faded out. "Is that going to continue happening?"

"I don't know. I wish I did. What do you need me to do?"

"I...I don't know. I just...I wanted...someone...to know. Just in case. He did explain it to me...he didn't force me."

"Okay, now listen. I'm goin' to call you every two hours. If you don't answer, I'm going to use my override and come in. Got that?"

"Yes. Thanks, Len." She sat there at the desk for a few more minutes, and then walked back into the sleeping alcove, dropping her robe over the chair there. She slipped into the bed, turning on her side with her back to him, and pulled the blanket up. He made a noise in his sleep, and his hand came up and found her, pulling her back against him. He nuzzled against her neck, inhaling deeply, muttering softly at her. And then he went slack again, curled against her back, his arm about her waist. It took her less time than she was afraid it might to go to sleep.

***

When the comlink chimed, she groggily raised herself up and answered. "Yes. I'm here."

"Everythin' okay?"

"Yes, just sleeping."

"Okay. Check again in two hours. Go back to sleep."

She settled back down, but the sound of McCoy's voice seemed to have disturbed him. He was moving about and muttering. She rolled over and soothed his face with her hands. He was pulling at her now, his hands rough on her body. "Mine."

"Yes, yes, I'm yours. Go back to sleep."

"Heard man. He cannot have you. Mine." He was insistent now, moving her about, pushing at her knees, moving them apart.

"Spock, Spock! There's no one else here. It was just Dr McCoy on the comlink. Hush, love." But he was not listening to her. He pulled her up, over him, and she felt his erection, hard and hot, pulsing against her thighs.

"Spock!" She placed both her hands on his face, trying to find the points he used. "Spock! Listen to me!"

She must have gotten through finally, because he paused. He bent his head and sniffed at her, grinning. "Nyota."

"Yes, it's me - but you have to do something now. Listen. What did I tell you?" She was pushing it at him with everything she had.

His brows drew together, his eyes, unfocused, tried to concentrate on her. "Told me. Wet. Need wet."

"Yes, that's right. I need to be wet. You can't just….just push in...you'll hurt me, Spock."

He muttered and twisted, hands still roving her body. "Wet. Yes." one hand slid between their bodies and found her center, probed, fingers sliding in. He sighed. "Nyota." He pulled her down against him with his other hand on the back of her neck, and buried his face against her, inhaling deeply, and began to lick her skin. His hand was busy, moving, stroking, sliding in. His skin was hot against hers, her breasts mashed against his chest. And then he was making little bites against her neck, murmuring something, pushing his body against hers. And she was responding to him, wet now, ready. He seemed to realize this, a long rumble coming from his chest. He moved his hand and repositioned her, thrusting up with a shout. She clasped her hands on his shoulders and used her knees to grip his hips. And then she thought of something and turned her face and bit his shoulder. He growled loudly at her, turning his face, offering his neck. And she bit him again and again, until he heaved himself at her, thrusting hard and deep and growling even louder as he emptied himself.

And then he collapsed, asleep again almost instantly, his hands still gripping her, holding her close. She let herself go limp, relaxing in relief, and then fished for the blanket, pulling it back up. She closed her eyes and snuggled down against his heat, drifting off to sleep again.

***

Something was tugging at her, trying to get her to wake up. She opened her eyes, trying to focus. There it was again -- a whisper. "Lieutenant, are you there?"

"What? Who? Oh, Len. Yes, I'm fine. Sleeping. Both of us."

"Okay. No Problems?"

Before she could answer, she felt him stirring beneath her. He muttered and then pulled his arms tighter around her. She tried to free herself, move away just a bit, but that was the wrong thing to do. Now he was waking. She lifted her head up and looked at him. He looked different than he had two hours ago - not himself yet, but maybe closer. He grinned at her again. That was the really _good _thing about all this.

"Nyota. Mine. We will have sex again. I will make you very wet." and he was touching and tasting and pushing himself against her.

She knew the comlink was still open and she had to answer McCoy to get him to disconnect. "No problem. Everything's fine. Ah, Spock, yes, do that again."

"I will do it all again. I will make you scream at me again. Mark me again, Nyota. Right here." He was pointing to a spot on his shoulder. She bent her head and bit him there and he rumbled at her, a very happy sound.

"Again, Nyota, more. Mark me for everyone to see. Here." and he was pointing to another spot. She giggled and bit him again. This was almost fun. If he stayed like this there wouldn't be any more problems. She heard a strange sound from the comlink and then the distinct click as it shut off and then she didn't think about it any more. He was quite sincere in his statement that he would make her scream at him again.

***

The next time the comlink chimed, he raised his head and looked around. "Nyota?"

"Hm?"

"Who is calling at this hour?"

She looked at him. He looked much more like himself. His eyes were almost clear and he wasn't sweating anymore. "That's Dr. McCoy and I need to answer."

His eyes darkened, but he nodded at her.

She turned her head and spoke. "Uhura here. Everything's fine. No problems."

Len's voice came through the speaker. "Are you sure, dollface? Last time it seemed like you were having a problem."

"No, really."

"You do not need to check any further doctor. I am fast regaining my control." His voice was dry.

"Well, I may still check up on you. Until I'm absolutely certain this thing is over. I had no idea it would come and go like that."

"Neither did I. But I assure you that it is now diminishing." He looked up at her face, hovering over him. "However, I do not believe that either the Lieutenant or myself will be fit for duty today."

"I already put the two of you on medical leave for the next two days. I do have a little sense."

"Thank you, Len. But you really don't need to check again. I'm certain." She smiled down at him. If he could carry on a conversation like that, he was indeed returning to normal. She heard the loud snort from the speaker, and the click as the circuit was dropped. She laid her head back down on his chest and snuggled up close again, ready to go back to sleep.

But he was nuzzling against her neck, breathing on her skin, hands sliding over her body. And he was whispering in her ear, so softly. "Once more, Nyota? Please, k'diwa?"

So she rolled over on her back and pulled him over her, cradling his face in her hands and offering him her full and unconditional love. And she felt his wonder, his joy, his gratitude as he proceeded to pleasure her in every way he could think of, until she was gasping and shaking and sobbing out his name in total ecstasy.


	6. Chapter 6:Coming in Waves

**The Other Side of the Fire**

**Chapter 6: Coming in Waves**

**October, 2267**

She was not expecting to be wakened again by rough hands. She had thought that that had ended. But here he was, pulling and tugging at her, eyes blank, skin hot. "Spock! Spock, wait."

He paused, head cocked. He turned his face in her direction, but his eyes were not focused at all. "Not wait. Need." He pulled at her again, trying to put her body into the position he wanted.

"Spock, you promised." She raised her hands and cupped his face, trying to send soothing thoughts to him.

"Promise?" Something flitted across his face. He seemed to realize, finally, that his face was held. He turned it, back and forth, without pulling away from her hands. "Nyota." A wide grin split his face. "Need wet. Then I can fuck you. Need fuck."

Well, that wasn't exactly the way she preferred to think of it, but under the circumstances it was actually pretty close. "Yes, that's right. Wet first."

"Good. Fuck Nyota. Yes." He moved then, bending his face close to her body, sniffing at her. He muttered. "Not wet. Need wet." He twisted his body, hands and face moving down. And then his hands were clasping her hips and he was raising her body to his face. "Ahhhh. Nyota." And then his mouth closed over her and she was moaning at him.

When she was writhing in his grasp, he raised his face again. "Wet now. Fuck now." He rolled onto his back and pulled her over him, thrusting up before she was even positioned correctly. "Nyota. Mine."

"Yes, yours. Spock, wait. Here, let me...just wait a minute...I'm not...ahhhhhh!" His hands gripped her hips, pulling her against him as he thrust up. His hips were like pistons, pounding into her. She leaned forward, grabbing his shoulders, hanging on as tightly as she could. He growled beneath her, deep and heavy.

"Mark me." That was certainly a command. She bent her face down and found the place where his neck curved into his shoulder, setting her teeth into his skin and muscle, clamping down. He roared at her, flooding her with heat. And then he collapsed, all the hardness falling away like sand, and slept again, almost immediately.

By now she knew better than to try to move away from him. She nestled down, making herself as comfortable as she could, straightening out her limbs, relaxing. His heat soothed her, and the gentle rumble from his chest vibrated against her skin, sending her floating back into sleep once again. It seemed the only things he was able to do were sleep and fuck.

***

She drifted slowly awake, dimly aware that he was moving beneath her. His hand ghosted softly against her face. "Nyota? Are you awake?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you awake?"

"No, I'm sleeping." She lay quietly to see what he would do. She felt his breath against the top of her head, his hands on her back.

His voice came again, puzzled. "How can you speak if you are asleep?" He snuffled against her hair again. "Please wake up, Nyota." He pushed his hips up at her and she felt him against her belly, already hard. He did seem much more alert than the last time, however. His voice came again, husky now. "Nyota. Ah, please wake up." His hands were more insistent now, and he bucked against her again.

"I'm awake now, Spock." She turned her face and nibbled on his neck. He sighed happily, stretching his neck for her. She continued to nibble on him and he rumbled, deep in his chest, like a big cat. His hands were all over her now, touching, stroking, never in one place very long, attempting to cover her whole body. She was starting to be sore and stiff, but she cooperated anyway. She would have time to recover when this was truly over. And then he was rolling over, on top of her, but she was face down. She wasn't sure she thought this was a good idea now, but he was very insistent. And his hands were touching, stroking, setting her on fire.

He bent himself over her, his mouth on the back of her neck, and entered her slowly, deeply, then began an insistent rhythm. She moaned and moved, raising her bottom higher, getting a better angle, one that hit that spot deep inside. Every stroke hit it now, and she cried out with the intense pleasure. He was muttering now, at the nape of her neck, one arm over her shoulder and down on the bed, the other wrapped around her hips, pulling her against him. Growling, he chanted in her ear. "Mine. Mine. Mine." And then he thrust harder and she screamed and convulsed and clenched hard around him. And he bit her, there on the nape of her neck. Too hard. And collapsed on top of her, flattening her out. She could barely breathe. She had to get him off. She poked him as hard as she could with her elbow. He mumbled.

"Spock! I can't breathe! Roll over."

He sighed and rolled over onto his side, pulling her along with him. His arm was a dead weight across her middle, but at least her face wasn't pressed into the bed any longer. She sighed, trying to relax. In a few minutes, she drifted back off to sleep.

***

When she awoke again, she was urgently aware of her bladder. How long had it been since she'd had a chance to pee? Hours, certainly. She carefully slipped out from under his arm and slid off the bed, almost falling. She caught herself and gingerly straightened up, wincing at the pulls she felt. She moved silently across the room and shut the bathroom door behind her. She didn't bother to turn the light on, she knew where everything was in here. She was about to return to the bedroom when she heard his panicked voice. "Nyota?"

"I had to pee. I'm coming." She quickly crossed to the bed and wiggled back under the covers, wrapping her arms around him.

"You are all right?" He sounded very unsure.

"Yes, I am. How are you?"

"I believe I have been...uncontrolled...again."

"Yes, just a bit. But you sound better now. How do you feel? Are you hungry, thirsty?"

"Thirsty, yes. Not hungry."

"Let me get you something to drink. Just stay there." She slipped back out of the bed and brought him a glass of water, waiting until he sat up before handing it to him. He drained the glass and handed it back to her. She sat the empty glass down on the table beside the bed. "How many days has it been since you ate anything?"

"I am not sure. I am not entirely sure which day this is. I am somewhat..disoriented." He was quiet, then reached for her, his hand shaking slightly. "I have not harmed you?" His voice was tentative, almost fearful.

"No, no, you haven't. I'm tired, and sore, and stiff, but that will pass." She sank back down on the bed, pulled him close. "Talk to me."

He settled down, his face close to hers. "I am unsettled. I did not expect the recurrent aspect. I am not sure what I did expect." His hand hovered over her face, waiting until she reached up and pulled it to her face before touching her. "I do apologize for any pain I may have inflicted. I….I...did not wish...to harm you."

"I am not harmed. In need of a shower and hot meal, but not harmed." She kissed the palm of his hand.

"Shower?" He could not hide the desire in his voice.

"Yes, shower. Does that sound good?" She almost laughed at the eagerness with which he sprang from the bed. Apparently it sounded very good.


	7. Chapter 7:Back to Normal

**The Other Side of the Fire**

**Chapter 7: Back to Normal**

**October, 2267**

He looked at her body in horror. She had bruises on both hips and both upper arms. And a large bite mark on the back of her neck, as well as one on her shoulder. He hesitantly reached out one hand, gently brushing the tips of his fingers against the side of her face. "Nyota...I...I...I have injured you."

"I am not injured. I am a bit banged up." She smiled up at him. "Nothing's broken. Bruises fade. Hush." She stretched up and kissed him softly on the corner of his mouth. "Now get in here and help me get clean." She stepped into the shower, moving without her normal grace. She seemed stiff. He followed, feeling helpless. What had he done to her?

She waved the water on, adjusted the temperature just a bit, so that it was warmer than she usually had it. She turned about, wetting herself all over, then held her head under the water, so that her hair streamed wetly, flat against her head. He stood watching her, wanting to touch, but afraid of causing her pain. She wiped the water out of her eyes and reached for the shampoo, wincing. He reached over her arm and retrieved the small bottle, bringing it to her hand. She smiled and leaned against him. He put his arms around her to stabilize her. He did not want her slipping in the wet. She gave a happy little sigh. Apparently she did not blame him for what had occurred, although he could not figure out why.

She poured a small amount of shampoo out of the bottle into her hand and then recapped the bottle, handing it back to him. He set it on the small shelf. Then she turned about, so that she faced him, and reached up, tugging on his hair. He obediently tilted his head down where she could reach it. She rubbed the shampoo into his hair, her fingers digging into his scalp, massaging. He groaned with pleasure. This felt very good. He felt her amusement run through the back of his mind. That was very good as well. It was so good, feeling her there. She ruffled his hair under the running water, rinsing the suds out. And then she turned her back to him again, waiting. He took the shampoo and poured a small amount into his hand and began to work it into her hair. She tilted her head back, chin up, sighing. He filled with warmth. She was definitely enjoying this. Carefully he rinsed her hair, spreading it out to be sure he had all the suds out. She shifted her body, stretching carefully, rubbing her bottom against him. He felt heat, flaring. He growled softly at her. Perhaps the fires had not died entirely. On the other hand, perhaps it was just his normal reaction to her. It was difficult to say.

He took the tube of shower gel from the small shelf and squeezed out a small amount and began to lather her shoulders, working his way down her back, careful not to put too much pressure on the areas that appeared to be bruised. He had held her much too tightly. He lathered her arms and then knelt and lathered her legs, and then he carefully rinsed her off. She turned about, smiling, and held out her hand. He squeezed some gel into her palm and turned his back to her. Her hands caressed his body, kneading at the muscles, helping him to relax, while filling him with heat. He worked hard to suppress that heat. He had abused her body enough recently. He felt her hands again, rinsing the lather off. And so he turned about and found her hands on the front of his body. She lathered him _everywhere_. He muffled his moans. She did not deserve to be molested again tonight. She looked up at him, frowning. He felt the touch of her, in the back of his mind, irritated. _She wished him to react? _Then he would definitely do so. She touched him again and he groaned aloud, allowing his body to respond to her touch. Now she smiled at him and handed him the gel.

Very carefully, he spread the gel over the front of her body, working it gently into all the folds of her skin. She sighed and stretched, making it easy for him. He left the part he felt must be the most abused for last, touching very lightly, assuming there were bruises hidden beneath the curls. She moaned softly at him, but it did not sound like pain. Carefully, he rinsed her. And then she leaned against him, rubbing herself against his arousal, winding her arms around him, lifting her face to his, waiting to be kissed. He was almost...nervous about this. He feared to lose his control again, to bruise her more, but she was insistent. He bent his head and brushed her lips with his, his hands running up and down her back, cupping her buttocks, pulling her to him. He felt the heat building, felt her arousal, smelled her. And then he could hold back no longer and lifted her up, feeling her legs around him, her body open to him. He stumbled forward, putting her back to the wet wall, trying not to push too hard, put too much weight on her. And then she bent her head and began to bite him and he forgot everything except how much he desired her and how much she desired him and let her flood him with her love. He shook and shuddered and she cried out, her muscles clenching about him. It was glorious.

He held her there, not wanting to let her go, until she murmured softly at him that her joints were protesting, and then he carefully set her on her feet. He could feel that her hip joints ached. He touched her softly. He tried to convey his regret, but she kissed him again and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. He found it difficult to believe how accepting she was. He was practically delirious with relief. He waved the water off and opened the door, reaching over to the counter for the towels. She stepped out, onto the soft rug and began slowly to dry her body. He watched her carefully. She definitely was stiff. He took the towel from her and finished, working on the areas she was having trouble reaching. She just stood there and smiled at him, a soft, dreamy look on her face.

She headed for her closet and pulled out a pair of work-out pants and a soft shirt. Then she made a face. "You are going to have to bring some things here - underwear and pajamas, at least."

He swallowed, hard. The thought of keeping his clothing, here, in her quarters, was overwhelming. She turned her face, surprised. "Spock?"

"You will allow this?"

"Of course I will. You are really mine, now." Her face lit up and her hand came up to caress his face again. "All mine. And I don't intend to let you forget it."

He was so full of her that he almost shook with it. He leaned his face into her hand, closing his eyes. She was everywhere, inside and out. And it was so perfect, so right. He sighed, trying to collect himself. Where had he been? Yes, clothing. Well, he would just have to put back on the clothing he had worn here, there was no other option. But she was frowning at him, shaking her head. And then she was crossing the room, slipping out into the corridor. He could sense her as she hurried down the corridor, tapped the plate at his door, slipped inside. She went straight to the dresser, her hands held out. _The top drawer, k'diwa_. She pulled the drawer open, withdrew several pair of briefs, an equal number of black tee-shirts. Now she turned to the dresser again. _What did she want now? Ah, pajamas. The second drawer_. She pulled the drawer open and pulled out one set of standard issue pajamas, adding them to the stack on the table. Then she went to the closet and drew out a pair of uniform trousers and a pair of work-out pants and a uniform shirt. She laid all this on the table and folded it into a compact bundle. She went back to the door, listened carefully, then slipped out, hurrying back.

She came in quickly and set the bundle on the table. "I couldn't have you putting that other stuff back on. You were sweating so bad when you came in. I know you wouldn't want that against your clean skin."

He could barely believe her. She was a marvel. He pulled items from the stack, dressed quickly. She took the uniform shirt and trousers to her closet and hung them up, and then put the remainder of the items in the second drawer of her dresser, removing the things that had been there. "There's still room here. You can bring whatever you like to fill it up."

He stepped up behind her, encircling her with his arms. He still found it difficult to believe. She was truly his. He laid the side of his face against hers, cherishing her. This was heaven. And then her stomach growled, loudly. He jumped. She laughed. "Okay, how about some food?" She went to the synthesizer and started pushing buttons. "Not the greatest variety, but I don't see us heading for the mess hall right now."

"Whatever you choose will be fine." He really didn't care what he ate right now. As long as she was happy, so was he. He realized that he was still slightly disoriented. What was the ship's time now? He walked over the comlink on her desk and activated it. 0400. No wonder the corridor had been deserted. They needed to get back on schedule. He looked at the com link again. Two and a half days had passed since he had come to her door. And this was the first time she had eaten since then? No wonder her stomach had growled. He sat down heavily at the table. So much time had passed and he had only vague memories. She came up behind him, placed her hands on his shoulders.

"I will share my memories with you if you wish. But you must eat first."

He placed one hand over hers, on his shoulder. "It would please me greatly. If you would not feel that it is too much.."

"No, Spock, it is not too much. I would share anything with you." She dropped a soft kiss on his temple and went to take the food from the synthesizer. Then she set the teapot on the table and sat in the chair across from him. He sat there, across from her, eating, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. And he realized that, for the first time in a very long time, he was completely at peace.


	8. Chapter 8: Learning How to Be

**The Other Side of the Fire**

**Chapter 8: Learning How to Be**

**October, 2267**

He awoke, for a moment disoriented. Then he realized that he was in Nyota's quarters. Curled around her sleeping body. He lay still, marveling. She was truly his. He could feel her sleeping presence, there in the back of his mind, soft and gentle. He had not dreamed that it would be like this.

He lay there, treasuring the feel of her body against his. He could do this every night. But did she want that? They had not talked about such things yet. They had spent their time..recovering. Regaining calm. Sleeping and eating. Preparing to return to normal shift work this morning. There had not been time or temperament for serious talks about what their future held. That would come, he knew that it would. But there was no rush, now, none at all.

His internal clock was working again and he realized that it was almost time for her to awaken. To shower and dress for the day. She had brought him a uniform from his quarters, it hung in her closet now. He could stay here, shower with her, walk her to the mess hall. These thoughts and her nearness caused a reaction which he knew he should subdue. However, it did not seem to want to be subdued. His body apparently was not yet entirely back to normal. She stirred against him, moving, stretching, rubbing her lovely round bottom against that which did not want to be subdued. She made a small sound, a happy sound, and rotated her body, pressing her lovely breasts against his chest, nuzzling her face against his neck.

"Good morning, love."

"Good morning, k'diwa."

"Ah, you feel so good." She moved against him again, causing all sorts of wonderful sensations. "But we really have to get up. Time to go back to work."

He worked hard at making his body obey his mind. However, it seemed his mind agreed with his body this morning.

She pushed herself up, bracing herself on her elbows, looking at his face. "Shower time, mister." and then she grinned at him, and he felt her, there in the back of his mind, and what she intended to do to him in the shower. He threw the covers back and rose from the bed, pulling her along with him, laughing, to the shower.

***

McCoy caught up with them just outside the mess hall. "You both need to come to sick bay after breakfast, before reporting to the bridge." At their blank looks, he continued. "You've been on medical leave. You need my approval to go back to work. It shouldn't take long." He looked at them until they both nodded at him. And then they all passed into the mess hall and filled their trays.

***

When they had eaten, they followed McCoy to Sick Bay. He opened one of the small private rooms and herded them both inside, out of any curious eyes that might appear. He gestured at the biobed. "One of you get up there."

Spock looked so uncomfortable that Nyota hopped up and sat on the edge, waiting. McCoy came and ran his medical tricorder over her, looking both at the display on it and the telltales on the wall. "Okay, dollface, you're clear. Hop down. Now you." And he clearly indicated Spock. She looked at him, feeling his discomfort. And she tried something she had not done before. She opened herself, thinking about pushing toward him, sending him her love. And she felt him react, relaxing. He took the few steps necessary and sat in the same spot she had been in just a moment ago. Again, McCoy ran the tricorder over him. But now he was frowning. "You're still dehydrated and your energy levels are really low. Don't skip any meals at all for the next week and I mean it. And get some of those drinks with all the metabolites in them from the rack outside and take them to the bridge with you. You can get more this afternoon to take to your quarters."

He turned his back for a minute, putting his tricorder down. Then he turned and did something to the controls on the wall. When he turned back, his face was serious. "I shut off the camera and sound recording. I just need to be sure that both of you are really all right." He looked pointedly from one to the other.

She looked him right in the eyes. "I'm fine, Len, truly. There's nothing for you to worry about. Honest."

Spock just nodded, saying nothing. McCoy looked hard at him. "Now listen, you green-blooded hobgoblin, you damn well better take good care of her or you're going to hear it from me. Do you understand?"

"I believe that I do, doctor. I have every intention of taking good care of her." He swiveled his head to look at her, now. "She is very important to me."

A shiver ran down her back at the depth of emotion in that statement. She looked back at him, lost in his eyes.

"Okay, then, just so that's clear. And now the next question. When was the last time either one of you had a contraceptive shot?" At their blank looks, he muttered loudly. "Dammit, doesn't anybody on this ship think ahead?" He turned to glare at them. "Are you thinkin' of startin' a family right now? No?" he stomped across the room and rifled through a drawer, coming back with several vials and a hypospray. He filled the hypospray from the vials and then advanced on Spock. "Lay back."

Spock did so, saying nothing. McCoy lifted his uniform shirt and the black tee beneath it out of the way and injected him on the flat plane of his abdomen, below his navel. Then he stepped back. "Okay young lady, your turn."

Spock stood up off the biobed and Nyota sat down. She lay back, wondering how McCoy intended to do this. He looked at her, then huffed. "Usually, when I give one of these, the recipient is wearin' a damn examinin' gown."

"Is she to get her shot in the same place I got mine, doctor?" Spock was standing by her side now.

"Yes, dammit, that's the only way it does any good."

Spock pulled her up, unsealing her uniform and slipping it over her arms, then laid her back on biobed, pulling the uniform dress down to her hips. He stood there, as though on guard, while McCoy came and injected her. And then he was helping her to dress again, swiftly, while McCoy turned his back, muttering.

"All right, you're both cleared. Get to the bridge where you belong. And try to stay healthy for a while."

***

When they stepped out of the turbolift, Kirk beamed. "Hey, guys, glad to see you both feeling better. It was lonely up here without you." It did not seem that McCoy had filled him in on what the problem had been. If so, he was a much better actor than either of them had thought. They settled down at their stations, resuming their work as if it had only been minutes since they had left the bridge.

***

At lunch time, they rose as one and headed for the turbolift, their relief sliding into place as though they had practiced this deliberately. Kirk joined them, chattering away as the turbolift descended, oblivious to the looks they gave one another behind his back. McCoy joined them at the table, and Scotty was not far behind. And they all sat there and talked, as always, with her hand resting lightly on his thigh under the table.

***

That afternoon, on the bridge, she had a report to be signed, and Kirk was taking a break, so she brought it to him, laying the PADD down beside him. He signed it, handing it back, brushing her fingers gently as he did so. And he felt her response, there in the back of his mind. Ah, that was nice. Very nice.

***

In the mess hall that evening, Jim asked him about their scheduled chess game. "Are you feeling up to it, Spock?"

"Indeed, Jim, I know of no reason that I will not be able to defeat you this evening." He felt her amusement, tickling. He had not anticipated how wonderful this would be. He had never had any reason to look forward to being bonded with anticipation. Now he kept discovering just how very much this pleased him.

As they exited the mess hall, he touched her lightly on her arm. He must go and fetch his ka'athyra. She nodded. She would meet him in the rec room then. He nodded and turned in the other direction, separating from her for the first time today. It felt strange to do so, but there she was, still with him, warm and happy, comforting.

***

And when he played, later, she sang so effortlessly, and he knew what she intended, without her even touching him. Not that he would object to have her touching him while she sang. He found that he enjoyed that very much. And as she sang, she moved about the room, until she was there, beside him, her hand grazing his shoulder. Now he could feel her everywhere, and he was overflowing with warmth, and love. Outstanding.

And then they were leaving, walking out side by side, and no one had noticed, or thought anything about it. They stopped at her quarters, and she quickly bundled up some clothing, carrying it cuddled close to her chest as they traversed the short distance down the corridor. But no one noticed.

He cleared out a drawer for her, gave her hangers for her uniforms. And then they were in his bed, wrapped around one another, moving together, bodies and minds merged. When she was soft and limp and sighing upon him, he told the computer to turn off the lights, and he pulled the blanket over them and curled himself about her and they slept. He was beyond pleased.


	9. Chapter 9:Sharing Memories

**The Other Side of the Fire**

**Chapter 9: Sharing Memories**

**October, 2267**

He led her to the pillows on the floor before his firepot, settling her down beside him, facing him. He laid his hand upon her face, gently, his fingers seeking the spots that were required. And then he gently sank down into her, gradually opening up the meld until it filled them both to the brim. He drew her to him, indicating where she should go.

He started with the day they had spent together in that room on the planet the Enterprise had been in orbit about. He indicated certain things - his awkwardness, the tremors in his hand, his fever, his loss of memory. He was surprised to discover that she had noted all these things, not realizing what they meant. She knew now. He did not think these symptoms would ever go unnoticed, uncommented on, in the future.

He drew her gently on, showing her the things that had transpired in his quarters, how he had smashed his comlink, the talk he had had with Jim, the way that Nurse Chapel had continually pushed herself at him and his strange response to her. She was not entirely thrilled with that last, he could sense...indignation. He also sensed hostility towards the other woman. Well, he could not say that he would not feel the same way in her place.

Now he led her slowly to the scene on the bridge, showing her the emotions that had roiled through him there. And felt her concern, the peace she sent him. And she showed him the pain she had felt then, the shock, the _betrayal_. He let her feel his sorrow for that. And his absolute conviction that he had thought it would never happen. They sat quietly for some time, adjusting, feeling what the other had felt, accepting.

And then he drew her on, to the events that had occurred on the hot sands of his home world. And felt her shock and dismay, her fear and sorrow. Her absolute certainty that this was not something to be shared with anyone else. Jim and Bones had conspired to conceal what had happened, and she felt they had done exactly the right thing. When he showed her T'Pring's actions, she was incensed. She burned with antagonism to her. That this woman had dared to shun him! To reject him and leave him to die! He was astounded at the depth of her reaction. If this had not happened, they would not now be sitting here, sharing memories. Still, she did not accept those actions as honorable. He was amazed, awed.

He showed her his actions then, his feelings when he thought he had killed his captain, his friend. The agony he had felt. And she soothed him, gave him calm and peace. And then he revealed the fear he had felt when he returned to the bridge and she was there, that she would never speak to him again as a friend, much less anything else. That she would not trust him, not believe him. And she showed him the hurt, the pain she had felt when she thought that he had deliberately concealed this from her, that he had been using her. And he hurt for her, offered her abject apologies. And she filled him with love and light and joy. And again, they sat and pondered, so full of each other.

When they again began to drift together, he showed her how he had returned to his quarters from the bridge and tried to meditate, to calm himself from the events of the day. And discovered, to his dismay, that the fever and the shaking, and the burning, had returned. He revealed to her his knowledge at that point, that there was only one way that he could survive this. His fear that she would also reject him. His fear that he would injure her, that he would not be able to exert enough control to moderate his strength. His final decision that, if he was to live, he must go to her, and beg her help.

And then she began to draw him in, to lead him down her memories, to let him see how he had appeared to her, when she had opened her door. How confused she had been, how uncertain. How she had wished that he had explained these things to her before, so that she might have been prepared. She showed him how she wished she had been able to provide him the relief he needed, so that he would not have had to suffer so. He was humbled by her, by the strength she revealed to him. He flooded her with his gratitude, his love - and she drew it in and sent it back, tenfold.

And now she led him through those events that followed, slowly, showing him how it had been for her. And once again he sorrowed at the pain he had caused, and she would not allow it. She had done it for him, because she loved him, because she wished him to live, and she would not have him regret any of it.

Finally they came to the end of it, to the place where his mind was clear again, free of the fever, the confusion, the compulsion. He dropped his hand from her face and let it lay on his thigh, watching her face at she sat there, eyes closed. She was still reliving those memories, that she had dredged up for him, to show him, to share, so that he did not have that huge gap in his memory. She opened her eyes, and looked at him, and she smiled. He was completely undone. "Nyota." He whispered her name, his hands rising to cup her face, his body responding to her, wanting her. She was more, much more than he deserved.

She leaned forward and pressed her hands against his chest, bent her face to his, her lips brushing softly against his skin. He was truly lost. And she had found him, rescued him, preserved him. He pulled her close against his chest, surrounding her with his love, holding her as though he would drown without her - which he surely would. She slid her arms around his neck and whispered soft words in his ear and set him free - free from the pain and doubt, free from the worry and sorrow, free to love her. Which he would do every day for the rest of his life. He had no doubt about that whatsoever. And every day, he would do his best to show her how much he cared, how much he loved her. Because she was his and his life was joy and light and love, because of her.

__________

Author's Note: This is the last chapter of this story. The sequel "Life is Not Always Easy" starts tomorrow.


End file.
